Paper Hearts
by prospectkiss
Summary: People who drifted apart can always come back together, right? Trucy discovers an old blue valentine among her father's old possessions. Who sent it? And more importantly, can she play matchmaker and set her Daddy up with them? It will take a little detective work and a lot of magic to pull off this trick. Sequel to Special Valentines, 25 years later, but can be read stand-alone.
1. An Unexpected Lesson

**An Unexpected Lesson**

* * *

No matter how much he tried, Phoenix just couldn't stop smiling.

"Phoenix, eat with your mouth closed," his father chastised near the end of dinner, sending a disapproving look over the table.

"'Kay." He squirmed in his seat with his mouth still split wide, beaming. He had run around all evening with a particular gleam in his eye, more cheerful than usual.

His mother gently tried to pry. "Honey, did something happen at school today?"

Phoenix felt his stomach churn pleasantly.

"Yeah! Yeah, so it's Valentine's Day, you know," he explained, pausing to finish the rest of his pasta in one big gulp.

"Oh believe me, we know." Phoenix remained oblivious to the sly glance his parents shared.

"So we had a party in our classroom to celebrate, and there was music and confetti, and we all ate lots of candy and cupcakes."

"Candy, hmm," his mother echoed with a wry smile. "I suppose that means you've had enough sugar already." She slid his half-drained glass of Kool-Aid away.

"And then we gave out cards to everyone, and all the girls started giggling, and Larry kept holding hands with Cerise, and it was really fun."

His father began helping his mother clear the table. He collected Phoenix's plate and tousled his hair, thoroughly messing up the spikes. "I bet Larry gave cards to all the girls."

"Nah, just Cerise."

"Did you get any cards?"

"Yeah, I–" Phoenix abruptly stopped, and a pink flush appeared on his cheeks.

"What is it?"

Phoenix wriggled in his seat again, not like he did when he knew he was in trouble, but more shy. "W-Well, we also got to give out special valentines, you know, secret admirer ones." He tried smoothing his hair back, and his hand started to rub at the back of his neck.

"Did you give someone a special valentine?" His mother halted in the doorway to the kitchen, and her voice had a curious lilt, picking up on her son's change in demeanor.

"Yeah." The pink flush deepened into a dark red. "And I got one back." He suddenly flashed a brilliant grin, all his enthusiasm returned. "It made me feel really special."

His father gave him a matching smile. "Hey! That's great."

His mother, however, just nodded, and gave her husband a look. "Why don't you go play in your room," she said, shepherding Phoenix away from the dining table. "Your father and I need to talk about something."

"Okay."

Behind him the plates clattered back onto the table as his parents sat down again. His mother began talking in a serious voice, and as he closed the door to his bedroom he heard his father let out a low, beleaguered groan.

Phoenix paid them no heed, his mind on other matters. He moved over to his play table and unzipped his backpack, and retrieved one of his school folders. Inside, pressed carefully between yesterday's spelling quiz and last week's math test, was the giant blue heart valentine he had received from Miles.

It was really pretty. He'd had no idea Miles could make something like that; he thought only girls knew how to put together colors and arrange things to look really nice. Once again Miles amazed him – it seemed like there was nothing his best friend couldn't do.

He gently traced his finger across the poem inside, following each intricate loop and swirl of the cursive handwriting. Had Miles copied the words from a book? Probably not; most likely he would think that was cheating. So that meant the words were from Miles himself.

His pulse started to beat faster. There was something niggling at the back of his mind, trying to figure out just why Miles had bothered to make a valentine for him. He remembered the look on Miles's face under the slide, embarrassed and red and smiling softly, and he remembered feeling embarrassed himself as he had tried over and over to make the perfect valentine for his friend.

Miles was special to him, right? Maybe this was proof that he was special to Miles too. The thought filled him with something warm and happy inside.

Grinning again, he opened his closet and climbed the small stepladder inside to reach the top shelf, and pulled down his memory box. Everyone in his class had made one a couple of months ago, and for his he had covered one of his father's huge shoeboxes in light blue cloth and made little drawings all over it, like comic book pages. He carefully placed the valentine inside, to make sure that it stayed safe forever.

There was a knock on his door, startling him.

"Phoenix, I'm coming in."

"O-Okay, Dad."

Phoenix slid the box back onto the shelf as his father entered and closed the door behind him with a quiet click. After a moment's hesitation, his gaze moving over all his son's toys, he sat on the bed and patted the open space beside him.

"Come sit down."

There was something about his father that didn't seem right. He was sitting rigidly straight, and his foot tapped anxiously on the floor. He moved his hand across the back of his neck, the nervous gesture his son was starting to pick up, and cleared his throat.

"Your mother and I were talking, and we think– That is, you're old enough now– And considering what happened at school…" He trailed off and buried his face in the palm of his hand. "God, why is your mother making me do this tonight?"

"Dad?" Phoenix tilted his head, confused at his father's behavior.

His father drew in a deep breath.

"Phoenix, it's time you learned about the birds and the bees."


	2. Memories and Mysteries

**Memories and Mysteries**

* * *

 _Twenty-five years later_

Trucy looked down at the list in her hands, cradling the clipboard in one arm while she carefully wrote down the last item.

"That's it," she said, a note of satisfaction in her voice.

She was taking an inventory of all the possessions in the Agency, room by room. Now that her father was a bonafide lawyer again, they were considering moving into a bigger home. Not that they'd ever get rid of the Agency! She turned in a circle, taking in the cluttered piano and her piles of magic props next to the cases full of legal books and the ever-green Mr. Charley.

The office held a lot of memories for both of them.

But the Agency was growing, and the office needed to be, well, an office again. So she had taken it upon herself to tally-up everything they owned in order to figure out how much space they would need to live in. They could afford to spread out a little now and didn't need to cram everything into two rooms and a closet.

Speaking of closets, that was the only place she had left to catalogue: her daddy's room. It wasn't a closet, really, just an oversized storage area, and years ago her father had insisted on moving into it and left the bigger room to her.

Trucy stepped inside, writing down the contents on the clipboard: dresser, tiny nightstand, lamp, small bed. There were a few things hiding under the bed as well – a couple of blankets, old _Steel Samurai_ tapes, and a cardboard box.

Kneeling down, she dragged the box out from beneath the bed; it was heavier than she thought it would be. It was also old – really old. Possibly ancient. She swiped her finger across the side and blew away a thick layer of dust. "Wow," she breathed, feeling the sharp current of curiosity course through her like electricity.

She lifted one of the flaps and peeked inside. There was a lot of junk in there, things that her father had held on to despite their lack of space. Her curiosity grew, becoming something more like a magnetic pull. Daddy didn't like to talk about his past too much; he said he always preferred the present. So what kinds of things could he be hiding in there?

Daddy was at the courthouse defending his newest client, but he'd promised he would be finished in time for her show. She looked over at the clock; she had a few more hours by herself to prepare for her act.

And here was this mystery box, full of intrigue and surprises.

Wasn't it her duty, as a professional, to investigate anything that could make for a better performance? What if the contents of this box held the secret to a new magic trick, or the inspiration for a new show?

Feeling that she had fully justified her invasion of her father's privacy, Trucy dove into the box.

She was only a little disappointed to discover no mind-bending puzzles, or secret magic tricks, or even funny props, but instead a box filled with ordinary, everyday things. There was an old sketchbook filled with pencil drawings and lots of wrinkled theatre playbills. She thumbed through a high school yearbook and could hardly contain her laughter at how dorky her daddy looked, wide-eyed and gangly. She pulled it aside; it would be handy to have some material to threaten to show Polly the next time her father said no to one of her stunts.

A framed photograph was wrapped up in yellowed newspaper. She pulled it off and was greeted with a picture of her father, probably nine or ten years old, laughing up at her. He had his arms around two other boys and they were all sitting on top of a schoolyard jungle gym.

She immediately recognized Uncle Larry on the left; even without his goatee, he still had the same toothy grin. His legs were so skinny!

Trucy frowned a little as she stared at the boy on the right side of the picture. Was that Uncle Miles? She tried to imagine the Chief Prosecutor as a little kid: rounder face, no scowl or glasses, shorter bangs. Yup, it had to be him. And he was grinning! Not one of his little knowing smiles or smirks, but a big open grin. Daddy said Uncle Miles had loosened up a lot over the years, but this picture made her think that maybe he had been even happier as a kid.

She shrugged as she set the photo aside and dug through the box again. What else, what else… Well! She pulled out a large cloth-covered shoebox with the word _Memories_ printed on top in black marker. A box within a box. Curiouser and curiouser. Faded drawings decorated all its sides, though she couldn't really make out what they were.

She slipped off the lid and rummaged through the contents: photos, drawings, report cards, an empty soda bottle, old action figures, little handwritten notes. Underneath all of it, protected from the other detritus by a sheet of notebook paper, was a big blue paper heart. She gingerly pulled it out, sensing that this was something extra-special.

Inside, many cute little multi-colored paper hearts surrounded a poem penned in swooshy cursive handwriting. She read the poem once, ran a critical eye over the entire heart, read it again, gingerly turned the heart over and examined it from all sides, and read the poem yet again.

Feeling a little like Detective Ema, Trucy came to a few conclusions: First, this was probably a childhood valentine, judging from the construction paper and its storage in an old memory box. Second, the poem obviously described her daddy, so it was a valentine he had received and not one he had never sent. Third, it was freaking adorable. Fourth, whoever sent it was unknown, as there was no name listed anywhere on the heart. And that led to the fifth and final conclusion, the best one of all: the valentine was a mystery, and a mystery was a type of magic without the flair.

Who had sent this valentine to her daddy? A girl from his elementary school, perhaps? It must have been someone special, since he had kept the heart for so long.

She had been asking her daddy to find her a new mommy for _forever_. Maybe this valentine had been from someone he still knew?

…Maybe she could find them.

But how? Her eyes came to rest on the framed photograph. Uncle Larry was in Europe with his girlfriend, and her daddy would have a heart attack if she tried calling him long-distance.

Uncle Miles, however, was just a taxi ride away at the prosecutors' offices. He had known her daddy for a long time, and he was brilliant. If anyone could figure out who had sent the valentine, it would be him. She still had enough time to ask him a few questions.

Trucy grinned; now she had a plan. She carefully re-packed everything back into the cardboard box and tucked it under the bed once more. Everything, that is, except for the valentine, which she slipped into a school binder. She slung her backpack across her shoulders, careful not to dislodge Mr. Hat, and hummed to herself as she fished out her keys to lock the Agency door.

She also left out the high school yearbook and slid it out of sight behind the piano. Blackmail was a kind of magic, too.


	3. An Unexpected Visit

**An Unexpected Visit  
**

* * *

Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth turned away from his office window and the broad vista of the Los Angeles skyline. Winters in California paled compared to the ones in Germany. There was no bite of cold, no stark grey skies holding the promise of blizzards, no drifts of snowflakes dotting the air or coating the streets with powder. Instead there was a mere lowering of the temperature from a balmy seventy to a cooler fifty, and charcoal skies threatening rain, and the only tufts of snowfall to be found were in department store window displays.

He remembered being fascinated with the snow the when he arrived at the von Karma estate. However, long years of schooling and indoctrination had inured him to the simple pleasures of the season. Now comfortably settled in his childhood home again, he sometimes wondered if he had missed out on the enchantment of wintertime.

A knock on his door brought him out of his reverie. His brows furrowed, and he felt a prickle of irritation at the intrusion.

Before he could move, the door opened just enough for a head to poke through.

"Uncle Miles?"

The door swung open fully and Trucy Wright waved at him from the threshold. It had been some months since the last time he had seen her, though he had been meaning to attend one of her shows. She started to barge in, but remembered her manners at the last second and leaned back. "Can I come in?"

His annoyance turned into surprise – and, since this was an unexpected visit from the young magician, a hint of suspicion. "You may, Miss Wright," he answered, stressing the _may_ , and turned toward the tea set and cabinet drawers behind him.

Ignoring the grammar lesson, Trucy skittered in, removed her coat and backpack, and set the items on one of the guest sofas before sitting down beside them. "What's with the 'Miss Wright'? Am I in trouble?"

Edgeworth rifled through his many varieties of tea. "It's simply a formality."

Behind his back, Trucy made a face. "But everyone just calls me Trucy."

He found the packet he was searching for, papery and quite unlike the other delicate sachets. Edgeworth tore it open and began preparing a cup. "As a young woman, you should become used to a degree of formality."

There was a moment of thoughtful silence as she considered. "But formality is only for people I don't know, or when I'm doing my act."

Edgeworth stirred a small metal spoon into the cup. He handed the drink to Trucy and seated himself on the sofa across from her. He watched her face as she took a tentative sip, and could feel the corners of his mouth turn up at the delight in her expression. He could have given her the finest cocoas in the world, made from the most exquisite chocolatiers in Germany or Belgium or Switzerland, the kind that melted on the tongue and made duchesses swoon.

It still baffled him that Trucy preferred the Swiss Miss mix.

"And you know," she suddenly said, as though her earlier thoughts hadn't been interrupted with the arrival of hot chocolate, "I think we know each other pretty well, _Chief Prosecutor Edgeworth_."

He recognized the sing-songy sarcasm learned from Maya Fey in her tone and held up a hand in defeat. "As you wish then, Trucy."

She sipped the drink greedily, warming her hands around the mug, seeming more like a child than a teenager.

For a moment Edgeworth was reminded of the first time he met her, all those years ago. She had just turned nine and Wright was eager for them to meet her in person. Against his better judgment he had made reservations from the Frankfurt airport to arrive in time for her birthday party. Most children would have been thrilled to see a magic show for their birthday; instead, Trucy was happy to _be_ the magic show, wowing the small group with her talent.

It had pained him then to see a familiar look of emptiness in her eyes, appearing just for a moment whenever she thought no one was paying attention to her. He too knew the sting of loss, and the difficulty adjusting to a new life; and though he understood innately that Wright would never hurt her the way he himself had been harmed, he feared that the attorney's quick decision to take her in was short-sighted and foolish and would only add to her psychological wounds.

But then she had come up to him and smiled, and pulled out a bouquet of tulips from the inside of his coat – how she had done that remained a mystery to this day – and ran over to give the flowers to Wright. The grin she had given her new father, and the one she received in return, did much to allay his doubts.

Edgeworth glanced at his clock, mentally rifling through the rest of his day's schedule, and deciding that he could spare a little time he leaned back against the plush cushions. "To what do I owe this visit?"

Setting her empty cup aside, Trucy leaned forward. "First, you have to make me a promise," she said, her voice low with conspiracy. "You can't tell Daddy about any of this. You have to keep it a secret."

Such words from a teenage girl would have provoked a heart attack in lesser men.

He let only a small scowl betray his misgivings. "Trucy, are you in any sort of trouble?"

She laughed, the sound light and utterly amused, with a look on her face that suggested she knew what had crossed his mind. "No, no, I just need some information." She unzipped her backpack and pulled out a three-ring binder. "Do you promise?"

He schooled his expression into a neutral stare. "That will depend on the nature of the information you need."

She met his gaze, eyes gleaming. They were a different shade of blue, of course, but they held the same determination and purpose that Wright had in his younger years, which he was only just now starting to show again. They shone with the same kind of light.

Perhaps some things were inherited not through genetics, but through the soul.

Trucy opened her binder and thumbed through its pages. Finally she pulled out a large sheet of blue paper, and placed it on the table between them.

And then he nearly did have that heart attack.


	4. Faded Away

**Faded Away**

* * *

"Do you recognize this, Uncle Miles?"

Gingerly, with only a slight tremble in his hand, he pulled the decades-old valentine closer to him. He knew the smaller hearts lining the interior of the large blue sheet, knew the fancy script painstakingly penned inside, knew the awkward and childish words of the poem inscribed.

Of course he recognized it.

He reached for his glasses in his breast pocket, pulling out a cleaning cloth and wiping at them slowly, stalling for time as his head reeled with a sudden dizziness. Even though it was somewhat faded, the paper no longer crisp but soft with age, he could see the valentine with the clarity of his ten-year-old self, clumsily struggling with emotions he was only just beginning to understand.

Of course he knew what it was.

Beneath the playground slide, fingers curling into the grass. The soft press of Phoenix's lips against his cheek. Face flushed, heart pounding.

And years later, a lifetime later, those same lips against his own, firm and strong and full of too much understanding. Stolen moments in his office, in his apartment, in his bed. One life reborn as another came crashing down.

The weight of years hung heavy on Edgeworth's face as he slid on his lenses and held the valentine. Here was proof, a visceral reminder, that his association with Wright, with _Phoenix_ , had been anything but ordinary.

There had never been any promises between them. Amidst his travels and Wright's haphazard schedule, whatever relationship might have occurred had been relegated to short visits and secret trysts, brief but intense whenever they could be together. But as time passed Wright had isolated himself more and more, retreated behind his grand scheme and his newfound daughter, and Edgeworth fell further into his own work, looking on from the sidelines, until gradually, things faded away.

Edgeworth's eyes roamed over the paper, seeing the present as much as he was lost in the past. He only realized Trucy was waiting for a reply when she tilted the valentine away from his face and looked at him directly.

"Uncle Miles?"

He cleared his throat, sitting up straighter. "Yes Trucy, I know what this is." He leveled a look at her, careful not to make it a glare. "Where did you find this?"

She too straightened up. "I found it in a box under Daddy's bed. It's an old valentine for him, isn't it?"

"It appears so." His voice felt tight.

"And you've known Daddy since you were both kids?"

He started to respond but she interrupted him, moving along enthusiastically.

"So I thought maybe you know who sent it to him. Or if not, you could help me figure it out. Right?"

She looked at him expectantly.

Edgeworth let out a long breath. "Trucy, why do you want to know who sent this to your father?"

"Because whoever sent it must be special. I mean, Daddy's kept it, so it must mean something to him. I want to know the person who sent this. M-Maybe find and meet her." Her voice stumbled, her excitement running away with her.

Edgeworth remembered Trucy's prodding for Wright to find her a mother. He thought she had outgrown those notions.

"Trucy, it's not up to you to find someone for your father," he said, hearing the echo of a tiny Pearl Fey chattering about 'Special Someones' in his head. "And since you asked me to keep this a secret, I take it that Wright does not know you've gone through his things."

She looked toward the floor, her enthusiasm dimming. "Things are really going well now. Daddy's a lawyer again, the Agency is a hit, we might even be moving out of the office soon. I thought now would be a good time to reintroduce him to someone special."

His brows shot up in surprise. "You're moving?"

"Maybe. I don't know yet," she said dismissively, clearly more interested in the valentine than in domestic addresses. Her face grew more resolute, her hands coming up to her chest. "So do you know who made that valentine for Daddy? Was it someone in elementary school with you?"

She was determined to find an answer. He'd recognize her expression – her father's courtroom expression – until the day he died.

"…Yes, someone in our school made it. No, I will not tell you who," he said, anticipating the next question.

She tilted her head, thoughtful. "Then, will you tell me _about_ whoever made it? Tell me about the person who was special to Daddy?"

The words sent a dull pain through him, like an old wound being prodded, though he was careful not to reveal it. He set the valentine back on the table, his fingers lightly tracing the script inside as he reluctantly considered his words.

"The person who made this cared a great deal for your father. A lot of time and effort went into that construction." He paused. "And I think it made your father happy, made him feel… special."

Trucy folded her hands, leaning forward again as she listened. "Were you and Daddy and Uncle Larry good friends with whoever made this card?"

Edgeworth smiled ruefully. "Your father, yes. Myself, not as much. As for Larry, well – perhaps."

Trucy tapped her fingertip against her chin in thought. "Okay then, what was she like? Was she pretty? Sweet? Did she tease any of you? Was she smart?" The questions shot out, rapid-fire.

"I don't know about _pretty_ ," Edgeworth said, wincing a little. "Or sweet. Perhaps there was some teasing, as children do." He finally leaned back, crossing one leg over his knee as he folded his arms. "Smart? I daresay too smart."

For a long moment Trucy was quiet, her attention focused inward. When she looked at him again she had a startling gleam in her eye, as though she had discovered some new detail, some contradiction to latch onto as her father used to do – _does_ , as her father does – in court. It planted a seed of foreboding in the back of his mind; nothing ever went as he expected when a Wright wore that expression. She stood and began pacing around the office, her boot heels clicking against the floor.

"Did Daddy spend a lot of time with the valentine sender back then?"

"He did."

"Why is there no name on the card?"

"I presume it was meant to be special. A secret admirer valentine."

She halted. "Did Daddy give one back?"

"Give what back?"

"A secret admirer valentine. To the person who sent him this one."

He shifted, remembering all too well the valentine he received in turn. "Yes, he did."

"Were they happy about it?"

"Yes." He answered quickly, hardly pausing to consider.

She looked at him straight-on. "Are they happy now?"

He blinked. "I don't know."

Edgeworth frowned as Trucy returned to the sofa. He felt that curious courtroom thrill, the one that arose when he worked with a particularly bright attorney to ferret out the truth. Her last question implied she thought he might still be in contact with the valentine sender. There was a part of him that cringed at the question – _Can one still be in contact with their childhood self?_ – and another part that was surprised at himself. How could he be uncertain if he was happy?

Perhaps that uncertainty was telling.

Trucy opened her binder and set the old valentine back inside, and Edgeworth felt something sharp twist inside him as it disappeared.

"Okay. I think that's all I have to ask." She began repacking her satchel, a look of satisfaction on her face.

Edgeworth stood, a disastrous mixture of emotions tumbling through him: relief that the questioning was finished, melancholy and nostalgia, and a yearning for days long past, for the time when he could pull Phoenix into a secluded corner and meet his lips and share all their truths with a glance and a touch.

He helped Trucy into her coat, and at the door she gave him a small smile and abruptly wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Thanks for your help, Uncle Miles."

He returned her embrace, somewhat awkwardly. "I'm glad you came by." Despite the subject of her visit, he meant it.

She pulled back and winked at him. "You won't tell Daddy anything, right?"

He offered his own tight smile in return. "I suppose not, as long as you promise _me_ that you will cease going through his private things."

With a nod and a dramatic swirl of her coat, Trucy left.

Once she had left, Edgeworth sat back at his desk, removed his glasses, and resigned himself to the fact that he would get no more work done that day.


	5. Epiphany

**Epiphany**

* * *

Trucy was quiet in the taxi back to the Agency.

Usually she spent cab rides talking to the driver or to any other passengers. She would hand them little cards with a picture of her top hat on it and information about her act printed on the back. She might even show them a trick or two to try and entice them into paying for the full show. It was amazing how much a simple deck of cards or a convenient bouquet of flowers could attract new customers.

Most of the time those people would smile, delighted by the demonstration, but sometimes they would frown at her, trying to determine how she had fooled them. Uncle Miles used to attend her shows with that kind of look, but over the years he was more content to simply be mystified. Daddy told her that was a big compliment.

She caught sight of her reflection in the cab's window and realized she had a similar pensive expression on her face: brows furrowed, slightly biting the inside of her lip. She had a lot to contemplate during the drive thanks to the epiphany she'd had in Uncle Miles's office.

As she had hoped, the prosecutor knew who had sent that valentine to her father all those years ago – and to her amazement, she was certain that the sender was Uncle Miles himself. The answers Uncle Miles gave were vague enough to be practically useless until she noticed the way he was _really_ reacting to the big blue heart: eyes going wide, his hand shaking, touching it hesitantly as though it would burn him.

The man might seem cold-hearted to others, but she was adept at picking up on the little cues to his real emotions. To her, Uncle Miles had started radiating a kind of sadness, as though the valentine reminded him of something lost. The comment about the sender being smart was what made her think that perhaps Uncle Miles wasn't talking about someone else, and what that implied.

She remembered all the times she'd asked her Daddy for a new Mommy, all the times she'd teased him or tried to get him to talk to a pretty new customer. She remembered holding her breath when he would talk to a someone, peering from behind the stage curtain or hiding behind a corner. And though sometimes he seemed interested, nothing ever came of her hopes.

Now she was starting to understand why.

The time before she lived with her father was a little hazy. The troupe traveled so much that there was never a place to call _home_. She remembered her other Daddy, him teaching her magic, and the courtroom where everything changed. But the Daddy she lived with now had given her everything he had, and she wanted him to find someone special to share their life.

Turns out, there _was_ someone special.

Uncle Miles had always been a part of her father's life. Daddy made a fuss every time he came to visit, cleaning the Agency and perking up with excitement. He would tell her stories about how the prosecutor was internationally famous, how he was brilliant and wry and secretly a nerd. She loved the times they'd flown out to Europe so her father could help with the prosecutor's cases. She remembered trying to get Uncle Miles to smile, and feeling happy when he would, and her Daddy smiled at both of them so much. With her new perspective, suddenly a lot of the things that happened between Daddy and Uncle Miles when she was younger made a different kind of sense.

She remembered staying with Aunt Maya overnight sometimes, and she felt a flush rise to her cheeks as she realized why.

What had happened between them? Trucy had seen less of Uncle Miles as she grew up, and her father had gotten more sarcastic and secretive. If Uncle Miles and her father were… were _special_ to each other, what made them drift apart? Daddy liked to be enigmatic about his past, especially now that Apollo and Athena were around, and Uncle Miles was always guarded. Daddy was happier now, but once in a while she would catch him with a far-away look in his eye, especially as he put on his badge, as though something was not quite right. And Uncle Miles, well, he said he didn't know if he was happy now.

People who drifted apart could always come back together, right?

She loved her father. He had changed his life for her, and even as a child she understood the enormity of his decision to raise her. In some way her mission to find a Mommy was also a way to repay him, to help him find a bit of happiness that, deep down, she worried she had stolen away from him. And the solution had been in front of her all this time. Even if it meant she would never have a Mommy, there was a perfectly good Uncle who cared about her Daddy in a significant way!

Trucy could feel the righteous anger bubbling inside. So what if something had happened between them? That didn't mean it couldn't be fixed! They were just like the boys at school – all pride and ego, never really saying what they meant. Her father had gone through hard times, but now he was on top of the world again. Uncle Miles obviously still felt something for her Daddy, and she was pretty sure Daddy still liked Uncle Miles, or else why would he have held on to something as silly as a paper heart?

Something needed to be done. Mystery was a kind of magic, and so was blackmail, but love was the most special magic of all.

By the time the cab arrived at the Agency she had concocted a grand idea to bring them back together. It would take some coordination, and she would need to wait a few weeks for the perfect timing. Most of all she needed the perfect diversion. Distraction was the key, and she needed a perfect, unknowing partner to pull off this trick.

And the first step was to steal Polly's cellphone so she could make a special call to Uncle Larry.


	6. Showtime

**Showtime**

* * *

 _A few weeks later_

Phoenix hurried down the busy sidewalk, jostling the other pedestrians at a pace just short of a run. He hoped the doors were still open and that there remained an empty seat for him. The show was supposed to start in five minutes.

For the past month Trucy had been working on a new act. She refused to share the details, though she had filled the Agency to overflowing with new props. Funny – not long ago they barely had enough money for an extra set of cards, but now they could afford to indulge whatever whims she had for her shows. It was an amazing feeling, not having to count every penny and let Trucy perform her magic to her heart's content. There was a part of him that could get used to life like this.

He made it to the entrance and was surprised to see Trucy there personally greeting the last arrivals, dressed in full costume.

"Shouldn't you be backstage, sweetheart? Is something wrong?"

Trucy flashed him a relieved grin. "Don't scare me like that, Daddy. I was starting to think you wouldn't make it."

"After all the time you've spent on this show, you think I'd miss it?" He smiled back at her, proud but confused. "Why are you out here?"

She looked embarrassed. "Um– Well, I didn't see you in the audience, and I wanted to make sure you were here."

He knew she was telling the truth, but something about her reaction made him suspicious about what she _wasn't_ saying.

"I think there's one more seat open," she said, ushering him inside. She pointed across the packed theatre to a table close to the side of the stage. He could make out the shape of another person already seated there, mostly hidden in the low light. Though he hated sharing the show with a stranger, he just nodded and gave her a playful push on her shoulder.

"Break a leg, kiddo."

"Thanks, Daddy." She rushed past him toward the stage entrance at the back of the building.

He took off his jacket and shuffled through the maze of people. The theatre hosted many shows and usually placed the seats in rows, but for special occasions the room could be reorganized to fit tables and chairs. This time each table housed two seats, side-by-side and facing the stage, in a more intimate arrangement.

The lights flickered, signaling that the performance would begin in one minute. Phoenix settled his coat on the back of the last remaining chair, and finally glanced at his impromptu companion.

And found Edgeworth looking up at him.

His stomach gave an unexpected, though not wholly unpleasant, lurch. He had last seen the prosecutor some weeks ago, and that had only been a passing wave at a crime scene. He could not remember when they had last spent time together, away from courtrooms and formality and just as themselves. Being suddenly confronted with the other man's company felt like making an unexpected trip to his childhood home: he was at once awash with warmth and familiarity, but also filled with awkwardness and unease at seeing little details, like that new cravat, that had changed without his notice.

Even if he was the one who left. Even if leaving was something he never intended, that had just happened, one step at a time, until he was far away from what he once knew. Who he once knew.

Miles away.

"Oh!" Phoenix felt his face heat up as his surprise slipped out. "I, uh, I didn't know you'd be here, Miles."

Edgeworth leveled a flat look at him and huffed. "It would be rude of me to refuse your daughter's direct invitation. I assumed you knew of my attendance."

Phoenix gave a sheepish grin and shrugged; Trucy had kept the audience details under wraps. He stole a glance at the rest of the audience and saw table after table filled with couples: old, young, men and women in every combination, a rainbow of faces. They leaned against one another and held hands with easy affection or smiled nervously at each other with the shine of new love.

With a growing sense of dread, Phoenix settled in next to Edgeworth.

Ever since he regained his badge Phoenix had told himself he should pick things back up with his once-partner. He had no more excuses: no more betrayal to siphon his attention, no more hiding behind his daughter in shame, no more need for the cynical persona that pushed everyone away. But he didn't know how to take that first step. It was no longer a simple matter of just showing up to face his old crush in court or pulling him into his apartment for a night – that time had slipped away. Now there was history, and suffering, and love and loss and memories and old dreams, and a still-burning hope that was almost too painful to hold.

Edgeworth's eyes were fixed on the stage. Phoenix wondered what Trucy had told him.

He drew in a breath, ready to break the ice and crack one of the many dad-jokes Apollo had deemed dreadful. But before the tension could get too oppressive, the lights dimmed completely and Trucy took the stage in front of the curtains.

"Hello! Thank you all for being here!" She bowed low at the audience, sweeping off her top hat with the aplomb of a true showman. "I hope you enjoy this special Valentine's Day performance. It's going to be a romantic night to remember!"

…He had forgotten what day it was.

Edgeworth cleared his throat beside him, face reddening as he tugged at his cravat. There was the subject they oh-so-carefully avoided, being put on display before them. As Phoenix's mind raced along the well-trod paths of _Still want_ and _My fault_ and _Too late_ , he knew this night would likely end with him staring at his bedroom ceiling in regret.

The end of his daughter's opening brought him out of his navel-gazing.

"And assisting me tonight is a very special guest, one you all are familiar with. Don't worry, he's an old hand at magic. He just arrived from Paris, the city of love, to put a spell on you and shoot an arrow straight to your heart. Come on out, Cupid!"

Sure enough, Trucy's assistant made his way to the front, and Phoenix's mouth dropped.

Cupid stood beside his daughter, wearing a shoulder harness with a pair of white wings attached, a cartoonish bow in hand, and a quiver slung across his back. In place of a diaper cloth he wore a sequined, golden orange speedo.

And Cupid was– he was–

"Butz!"

Edgeworth let out a guttural groan, hands white-knuckled in either rage or embarrassment.

The nearly nude, be-speedoed Larry Butz flashed a thumbs-up, and struck a pose as he aimed his bow at the crowd.

Phoenix immediately regretted ever allowing 'Uncle Larry' within ten feet of his daughter. He could practically hear the Child Protective Services sirens as he sank into his chair. Never mind tears and remorse – this night was going to end in flames.


	7. Three Act Romance

**Three Act Romance**

* * *

"Did you know anything about this, Wright?" Edgeworth hissed over the audience's raucous applause.

Struck dumb, Phoenix could only shake his head. "I thought he was in Europe." At least he and the prosecutor could find some common ground in their outrage. How the _hell_ had Trucy coordinated this?

As the noise subsided, Trucy gestured at her assistant. "All right, Cupid, whose magic should we perform first?"

Larry brought his hand up to his chin, brows furrowed in an exaggerated show of thought. Then: "I know!" He pulled a foam-tipped arrow from his quiver and somehow managed to shoot it into the audience; Phoenix would have to ask Trucy how she fixed the arrow's flight path later.

The arrow landed at a middle-aged couple's table, a man and woman who looked to be in their forties. Trucy displayed a magnificent grin. "Okay! Ladies and gentlemen, let's have a look at this couple's most romantic moment – their wedding day!"

The curtains opened onto a backdrop that looked like a chapel. Trucy, with the help of Mr. Hat and Larry, re-enacted the scene of the couple's marriage. The mock ceremony was interspersed, of course, with plenty of magic tricks: Trucy instantly changing her costume into a delicate white gown, oversized rings appearing out of thin air to serve as wedding bands, and the altar's candle flames performing a tango.

Phoenix's emotions could hardly keep up with the performance. Tears prickled at the corners of his eyes at seeing his daughter mimic a bride. His heart swelled with pride at her creativity. And perhaps it was just the romantic atmosphere, surrounded by couples and his old flame… but Phoenix was also filled with heart-pounding awareness of the man next to him, and how he used to idly daydream about their own–

The crowd gasped as Trucy suddenly tossed a flower bouquet off stage. It landed on the table in front of the same couple Larry's arrow found. The woman picked it up and shot to her feet, eyes wide with shock.

"This – This is my wedding bouquet! H-How?!"

Her husband stood to embrace her. "Happy anniversary, dear," he said, causing the audience to let out a collective "Aww."

The curtains closed on the first act, to hearty applause.

"Your daughter's talent continues to flourish, Wright." There was some wistful expression on Edgeworth's face, looking at him over the top of his glasses. "A prodigy, one might say."

A low chuckle slipped out of Phoenix. "Yeah, we're surrounded by them. Who put us in charge of all these geniuses?"

"Well, _you_ never could resist a sob story."

"Speak for yourself! I've heard about that convict you've been visiting." He let a wry smile slide across his face – a good mask to hide behind if his next words hit their mark too well. "I guess you still have a thing for social outcasts."

As planned, Edgeworth reared back, scandalized. "You have entirely the wrong idea! He has been unfairly treated, and I merely wished to extend an opportunity to him." His expression turned serious once more. "I'm sure you can give Trucy many new opportunities now."

"Definitely." He met Edgeworth's eyes, remembering the days of their relationship when Trucy would perform for just the two of them. "But her old tricks are my favorites."

"Still hopelessly sentimental, I see," Edgeworth chided, a hint of smile softening the impact.

"Yeah. I guess some things never change."

Trucy reappeared on the stage, her costume back to normal. "That was a great first act, Cupid. Now let's perform some more magic!"

On cue, Larry took aim and fired another arrow into the audience; this time it landed in front of two young women. Trucy waggled her eyebrows. "Ooh, looks like we'll get a peek into love's beginning!"

This time the curtains revealed a college dormitory room, with Ivy University pennants dotting the backdrop and stacks of college textbooks in the foreground. Mr. Hat temporarily became Ms. Hat and pretended to tutor Trucy in calculus, with equations leaping from the books to take flight around the stage. The pretend study session devolved into a game of Mr. Hat rewarding Trucy for her guesses, magically losing his costume piece by piece with each response until there was nearly nothing left on the puppet.

Phoenix had turned a brilliant scarlet by the end of the act, and not just because he'd have to have a talk with his _teenage daughter_ about risqué content in her show, god help him. How had she grown up so fast? He wasn't ready to start threatening suitors with the prop shotgun yet. Not to mention his parental horror at the idea that she was thinking about anything so… intimate.

No, his entire body burned red because, with Edgeworth sitting _right there_ , he remembered when he first reviewed a case at the prosecutor's apartment. Jackets were thrown off, followed by shirts, clothing disappearing until they fell together into a soft bed, and he looked up at Miles and–

He turned his head and found Edgeworth glancing at him, his own cheeks flushed beneath his glasses. The urge to look away was strong, but his blood was thrumming and his heart pounding with the memory of what was and _what could be again_ , and that look in Miles's eyes shook him to his core.

He had never meant to leave. Maybe Edgeworth never meant to let him go.

The stage curtains swooshed closed right as Mr. Hat leaned in for a kiss. The audience was howling with laughter – clearly the act was meant to be humorous, though it stirred other feelings for Phoenix. After a moment Trucy reappeared beside Larry, and with a dramatic swirl of her cape she withdrew a blue college exam book from her clothes. She passed it over to her assistant.

"Well, Cupid? What's the grade?"

Larry thumbed through the booklet and grimaced. "I don't think you want to know. Better fire this one away." He rolled it up and secured it to an arrow with two fasteners attached. Again he let the shaft fly to the young women's table.

One of the ladies held the exam book up in triumph. "Best class I ever failed!" She turned to her severely blushing partner and planted a kiss on her cheek.

Back on the stage, Trucy looped her arm through one of Larry's and pointed at the audience. "All right, time for one more act, Cupid!"

As before, Larry loosed an arrow and somehow it landed in front of an elderly couple. The man at the table picked it up and stared his partner in confusion, catching on that the final bit would be about them. The woman merely grinned and pointed back at the stage.

For the last act, the curtains opened to reveal an old elementary school classroom. Cardboard cutouts of young children were placed at several desks, and Larry stood at the front to act as the teacher. Trucy and Mr. Hat sat at opposite ends of the stage. After a few more magic tricks, Mr. Hat held up a large sheet of paper that read 'Do you like me?' with the options 'Yes' and 'No' written beneath. He passed it among the cardboard children to Trucy, and Phoenix couldn't decide if he was awed or weirded out at seeing the lifeless objects move so convincingly. When the paper reached his daughter a red circle magically appeared around the 'Yes.' Trucy folded the sheet into a paper airplane and sent it into the crowd toward the old couple. When the woman unfolded it, the paper had transformed into an old, yellowed sheet; from Phoenix's angle, he could make out faded ink and a faint red circle.

Trucy beamed. "Fifty-eight years together, everyone! Give a round of applause to our childhood sweethearts!"

While the audience burst into applause as the curtains closed at last, Phoenix remained still. He had a suspicion, still not-quite-formed at the back of his mind, that Trucy had created these acts for a reason. Weddings, dating… And after all, not many people ended up with their first love… But then that would mean…

Trucy bowed as the audience settled down. "I hope you've had a fantastic evening. I know we're all overflowing with love right now, but the show's not finished yet. Cupid's arrow has flown true for everyone else here, but what about himself? Cupid, fire one last arrow – for you!"

Larry made a big show of drawing the last round from his quiver and lining up a shot as Trucy disappeared from the stage. When he let it go, it landed at a table half-hidden in shadow at the other side of the stage. As Phoenix peered closer, he saw that unlike all the other tables, only one occupant sat there: a young woman.

"Charlotte! Come on up, baby!"

The woman slowly ascended the stage steps with the audience's encouragement. All eyes were on Larry as he held his girlfriend's hand and bent down on one knee, and pulled a small velvet box out of his glittering speedo. Several gasps echoed, and even Phoenix felt his breath stall as he saw his old friend – weird, unreliable, somehow-scraping-through-by-the-skin-of-his-teeth Larry – launch into a speech about how he knew it was love at first sight when he met his girlfriend.

Phoenix turned toward Edgeworth to see if his friend wore the same expression of shock, but the prosecutor was looking at Trucy with a slight frown.

When had she approached their table?

"I hope you enjoyed the show," she said softly, low enough for just the two of them to hear. "Now that Uncle Larry has everyone's attention, there's actually one more token I have to end tonight's performance." She reached into her costume's inner pocket.

Edgeworth suddenly stiffened. "Trucy–"

She forged ahead. "This is the season of romance. Love and confessions, and weddings." She looked them each in the eye, and laid something on the table. "This is something old, but to me it's new. Something I borrowed, and something blue."

Phoenix looked down, and his heart shuddered to a halt. The world fell away, collapsing into him and Miles – and his old valentine on the table.


	8. Magic

**Magic**

* * *

A shriek broke the spell.

"Yes!"

Larry's newly-minted fiancée let out a squeal of happiness and nearly bowled him over with her embrace, and the audience burst into cheerful whoops.

Phoenix looked back at Trucy, but she was nowhere to be found. He gently touched the blue valentine – his valentine, _Miles's_ valentine. All the questions and emotions swirling inside, too turbulent to sort out, were overwhelming.

When was the last time he saw this? How did Trucy find it? Did she _plan_ this?

…Did Edgeworth remember it?

"I–"

"Not here, Wright."

Edgeworth snatched up the valentine, and his other hand closed around Phoenix's fingers. Some memory of Edgeworth's hand in his own awoke, a simmering fire stoked back into life. It still felt the same; _Edgeworth_ still felt the same. Warm. Lightly calloused. Right.

Phoenix let himself be dragged out of his seat, pulled away from the celebrating crowd to behind the stage. He expected the prosecutor to let go once they cleared the set, but instead he clung tighter until they made it out of the stage entrance and into the dark alley behind the theatre.

Edgeworth leaned against the brick wall, breathing hard, head down. It was difficult to tell what he was thinking with his bangs shielding his eyes.

The events of the last ten minutes cycled through Phoenix's mind. Half of him was preoccupied with what Trucy had learned and what she was trying to tell him – and the other half was filled with that chest-tightening hope, that yearning to be close to Miles again.

However Phoenix had planned to approach Miles about, well, _everything_ , this was not what he had expected to happen. He had no idea how to bridge this tension and break the détente, frozen with fear and indecision. What could he say? What _should_ he say?

"I feel I must apologize, Wright."

That shook Phoenix out of his stupor. "Why?"

"Your daughter approached me with…" Edgeworth trailed off. It was rare to see him at a loss for words.

Edgeworth rolled his shoulders back and drew in a deep breath. "She brought that– that sentimental token to me a few weeks ago. She questioned me about it, and now I believe she gleaned some things from our conversation that I did not intend to tell."

"O-Oh."

Phoenix felt his pulse quicken, understanding at last. This was it. His daughter – that wonderful light of his life – had given him the opportunity he could never find. He had to say something, tell Miles that his feelings hadn't changed, that he–

That he wanted to be together again.

Edgeworth held out his hand, offering back his old valentine. "This belongs to you."

On the contrary. Phoenix's heart had always belonged to Edgeworth. It had never really left.

For the second time, Phoenix accepted the blue heart from Miles. He stared at it, and he held on to Edgeworth's fingers, not allowing him to let go of the paper. "Miles," he started, waiting for the _right_ words to tumble out.

Edgeworth watched him, wary. "Yes?"

And he realized all the things he could say would never convey the truth. Instead, he had to rely on a little… magic.

Phoenix tugged Edgeworth forward, and kissed him.

It had been so long; he had forgotten the texture of Edgeworth's mouth, the scent of his skin. The sensation of falling. The feeling of warmth and pleasure, of _Miles_.

He pulled away, ending the kiss with one last drag of lips. Miles's eyes slowly opened, and the wariness remained.

"What is this, Phoenix?"

It was – them. It was his very existence, spiraling before his eyes, filled with truth and justice and magic and the childhood love of his life. He just needed the courage to share his life again.

"It's everything, Miles. If you still want it."

Maybe it could be that simple.

Edgeworth swallowed hard. "Why now?"

They faced each other, hearts on their sleeves as delicate as paper. A heart _at_ their sleeves, big and shared and full of promise.

"Because I don't feel ashamed of myself anymore. Because I was an idiot and let you slip away. Because – even after all this time… Miles, I love you."

And his heart was truly out in the open, for the first time in what felt like forever.

He watched a shudder run down Edgeworth's spine, saw his head duck down again. His voice came out low and shaky. "Do you really think that's enough? That that's all it will take, and things can go back to how they once were?"

That hope squeezed, a painful vise.

"No. I wouldn't want it to. You're here now, and so am I. We both know what it's like to lose everything, and I don't want to lose you again. I want to make it work with you." He drew in a deep breath, pushing on. "It's only ever been you, Miles. And I hope that's enough for us to start again."

The moment stretched, thinning into painful silence.

Phoenix began to step away, to hide his sorrow and regret and put on a brave face for Trucy. Whatever she had thought would happen… hadn't.

He'd tried, in the end.

"You are the most ridiculous man I've ever known."

Edgeworth's hand anchored him in place. Phoenix waited, breath stilled. "Idiotic. Reckless. Brilliant." Their gaze finally met again, and the glint in Miles's eyes made his blood sing. "And you are still the best man I've ever known."

Before he could really register what Miles had said, the valentine floated to the ground; Edgeworth snapped Phoenix up against himself, one hand pressed between his shoulder blades and the other holding fast against his jaw, lips moving fervently over his own. Phoenix's mouth dropped open in a gasp as his own back hit the brick wall, Edgeworth crowding close, kissing him like his life depended on it, like a starving man devouring the fruit of the gods. Miles's tongue moved in, touching his; how had Phoenix ever let himself give up the taste of Miles Edgeworth?

At last they parted, lips red and swollen, chests heaving for air. Phoenix let his chin rest on Edgeworth's shoulder, relishing their embrace. It felt like finally coming home.

Miles murmured against his ear. "Move in with me."

That was enough to draw Phoenix back, half-wondering if the other man had heard his thoughts. "Huh?"

Edgeworth's glasses were knocked askew, but even the crooked frames could not detract from his utterly serious expression. "I'm not wasting more time. We've been through so much already, so I think we can afford to skip a few steps now."

The years had made Phoenix more cautious. They had made Edgeworth more bold.

"Trucy said you were moving. If you're going to leave the Agency, consider living with me."

Phoenix had started to have vague ideas of a date, or a weekend away – something with no strings attached to let their relationship find its footing again. But this was something new, a step to tie them together more closely than before. "Will that be enough?"

Edgeworth shook his head. "No." The corners of his mouth quirked up in a soft smile. "It will be a while before we regain what we've lost. But perhaps we can be even better, with time, and trust. We can't run anymore."

He looked Phoenix in the eye, letting the weight of his words be known. "Because I still love you. And that's enough for us to start again."

* * *

 _A few months later_

Trucy finished setting the glass in place over the blue valentine's holder and positioned it on the mantel. Uncle Miles – or was it Papa Miles, now? – would likely sputter and tell her to take it down, but for the moment it stood in place of honor.

She placed Daddy's childhood photograph on one side of it, and Uncle Larry's wedding invitation on the other. She was still surprised her uncle had agreed to her valentine's show idea, and had even discarded her original showstopper to take the opportunity to propose. She had to admit, she couldn't have thought of a better finale to knock some sense into her bull-headed guardians.

She glanced at her watch and realized they would be coming back from their date soon. She picked up her overnight bag and sent a text to Pearl, excited to spend the night and leave the home to the adults.

Trucy had had many people enter and leave her family. But now, it was filled with more love than she'd ever known.

All it took was a paper heart, and a little magic.


End file.
